


6. Those Pesky Kids... Why Me?

by thealphagate_archivist



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Friendship, Holiday, Humor, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-09-10
Updated: 2008-09-10
Packaged: 2019-02-02 08:37:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12723240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thealphagate_archivist/pseuds/thealphagate_archivist
Summary: Jack POV/Humour.  Contemplation, hangovers, snarkiness, and a run in with some sugar!  Jack's last few days in the UK with the pesky kids!





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the archivists: this story was originally archived at [The Alpha Gate](https://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Alpha_Gate), a Stargate SG-1 archive, which began migration to the AO3 in 2017 when its hosting software, eFiction, was no longer receiving support. To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2017. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are this creator and it hasn't transferred to your AO3 account, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Alpha Gate collection profile](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/thealphagate).
> 
>  **Author's notes:** Here's part 1 of 3. If you haven't already, you might want to read 'Those Pesky Kids', 'Those Pesky Kids Again!', 'Those Pesky Kids Give Me No Respect!', 'Those Pesky Kids Can Go Fish!' and, ‘Those Pesky Kids Are Getting Cheeky!’ first. This story will make far more sense if you do! ;-) Enjoy! X

Why me? Why do these things always happen to me? 

Most other highly decorated and special forces trained Air Force Colonels are not only given command of elite teams full of mature, professional, and skilled individuals, but their lucky subordinates kiss the very ground said Colonel deigns to walk on. They also have a healthy dose of hero worship, and live only to do as their beloved CO commands. They bombard him with respect and admiration, look up to and learn from his wealth of knowledge and experience, and they want to be just like him when they grow up. 

What do I get?

“No way, Colonel.”

“I think not, O’Neill.”

“Bite me, Jack!”

All those years in the Air Force sucking up to my commanding officer, finally making it to the distinguished rank of Colonel. Do I get to show off my impressive skills and have a team that suck up to me and stroke my carefully nurtured and greatly deserving ego?

Nope!

I get a beautiful, highly decorated Air Force Major, who’s also a leading physics and mathematical genius with a doctorate in Theoretical Astrophysics, an expert in wormholes, nano technology, and long, boring lectures. Despite my superior years and combat experience, she spends most of her time confusing the hell out of me, and giving me a proverbial pat on the head while muttering, ‘Don’t worry your pretty little self about it, Sir, just leave the nasty, complicated stuff to me’. I may as well call her Mighty Major. Here she comes to save the daaaay!!

I also get a huge, honkin’, muscle-bound alien with exceptional reflexes, the mother of all immune systems, and the strength of an enraged ape, who has the ability to pick me up with his little finger if he really wanted. He’s an ex-first prime, previous commander of thousands, has more experience in battle strategies and tactics than the rest of us put together, and who, scarily, is old enough to be my grandfather!

To top it all off, I get an infuriatingly young, multiple PhD genius archaeologist, stroke linguist, stroke philologist, stroke anthropologist, who talks really fast, can quite impressively swear in over twenty three different languages, and who innocently has the entire base either wanting to look after him or get inside his pants. He has enough sensitivity and diplomacy to fill the Grand Canyon, and an IQ that makes mine look like that of an amoeba. He vehemently refuses to call me ‘Sir’, ever, and wouldn’t know a direct order if it bit him on the ass! 

But so help me God, I can’t help but love ‘em, and be thankful each and every day that they’re my team.

As for my current situation, it’s a fine British morning, and we’ve had to get up early so we can head back to London today. However, that also means that Daniel’s had to wake up early too.

Oh dear.

“Morning Daniel! Congratulations for being out of bed, in motion, and a shining beacon of cheeriness at such an early hour.”

“Bite me, Jack!”

Okaaay, so maybe he’s not so cheery. He’s currently paying for his part in last night’s communal nakedness and abundant alcohol intake. Believe me, with any physical injury, Daniel would hold his own severed head in his hands and still insist ‘I’ll be fine’, but a sick or hungover Daniel? Take cover! Luckily, it doesn’t happen very often, and I can’t really blame him I suppose. Illness and hangovers do have a way of sucking out all of one’s cheeriness like a huge slimy leech that not only sucks to survive, but for whom sucking happens to be a favourite pastime. 

Hey! What’s this? It appears I have deserters in the ranks!

“Where do you guys think you’re going?”

“Outside, Sir. We’ll… um, clear up outside while you deal with Daniel.”

“Hey, that’s not fair! Whatever happened to teamwork? You should be helping me subdue the wild Daniel beast.”

“No way, Sir.”

“I think not, O’Neill.”

Great! Just great!

Why me?

Daniel is just sitting there with his head down on the table, pillowed on his arms. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he’d gone back to sleep. 

Actually, all joking aside, he does look kinda pale. Oh, hell, now I feel like a real bastard for dragging him out of bed so early. 

You know, as much as I’d like to deny it, Carter and T are right when they say it’s my responsibility. It does seem to have become my job to look after all of them, especially Daniel. It’s somehow been my job ever since he came back from Abydos. Even the general orders me to look out for him, but then Hammond has been caught performing a few fatherly duties himself when it comes to our youngest team member. I walked into the infirmary when Daniel had his appendix out to find George reading to a sleepy Daniel. I told ya; he naively has everyone wrapped around his little finger. The general certainly doesn’t read me a bedtime story when I’m sick!

God, I hate this. Daniel’s giving me that look that all sick kids give their parents. It’s that utterly miserable, ‘Please make it go away’ look, and even though I know this is just a hangover, I really hate the useless, helpless feeling of not being able to do anything to fix it. 

Maybe it would help if I just sit with him for a while. My kid used to like that… just knowing I was there. He’s feeling a bit warm too, and I can’t help but notice the quiet ‘I feel like total crap’ tears he’s trying to hide from me.

“Oh, Danny. What am I going to do with you, huh?”

Don’t get me wrong; it’s not like Daniel can’t look after himself. He’s definitely independent, and just like the rest of us, has been getting by on his own for years. I guess he’s just come to realise that he doesn’t _have_ to anymore. He finally knows now that he can just let go sometimes and someone will always be there to pick up the pieces. Sam and Daniel turn to each other occasionally. Sam’s the big sister Daniel never had and the only other member of their little genius club. Teal’c’s naturally taken on the role of universal protector to both of them, and will happily beat up any other little ‘kids’ that tend to pick on our hapless civilian. Oh, and according to Teal’c, that includes snakes, nasty Unas, and yours truly! But, if something’s really bothering Daniel, or he’s sick or injured or feeling crappy, he tends to turn to me… just like Charlie used to. Why do you think I’m always there when he wakes up in the infirmary? Granted, Daniel doesn’t cling to my leg like a spider monkey or stand there with his arms held up wanting what my kid used to call a ‘pick-snuggle’, but he does turn up on my doorstep late some nights, hypoallergenic pillow in hand. I did stealthily enquire once as to whether he ever turned up at Carter’s house or Teal’c’s quarters in the wee small hours, but apparently I’m the only one blessed with his grouchy little self in the middle of the night. Sometimes he wants to talk, sometimes he watches TV, and sometimes he just grunts in my direction and immediately crashes in his room. I say ‘his room’ because it might as well be. Last Christmas I had a little plaque made up for the door that says ‘Daniel’s Room’. I even had my old friend Kat draw a cartoon monkey of Daniel for it too - glasses and everything. Funny as hell!

My other spare bedroom basically belongs to Carter. It doesn’t get as much use as Daniel’s, but still, after some of our team barbeques, special holiday parties, and birthdays, it’s all hers. She’s getting her plaque this coming Christmas! My office has a double sofa bed in it too, usually reserved for when Fraiser and Cassie join us. Teal’c’s the easiest. He prefers to just commandeer an area of floor space somewhere … and maybe a cushion.

You know, that shocked me at first. It’s taken time, and a bit of opening up on my part, but for better or worse, my team are now so interwoven into my life that not only has my house become the SG-1 official hang out, but after a harrowing mission or if we’re just having a rough time, it’s become a place to go for putting ourselves back together. It was just a house to me, just somewhere to live, until SG-1 moved themselves in. Now, my home has some of Carter and Daniel’s books, journals, spare reading glasses, and a permanent supply of all their favourite drinks and snacks. Hell, even the last load of laundry I did wasn’t all mine! At least, I’m pretty sure I’ve never worn frilly black panties or boxers quite that tight. The ‘family’ bathroom suddenly has three toothbrushes and a load of girly shampoo and moisturiser that I certainly never had before. Nice stuff though; smells nice and really makes your hands soft and… God, I’m turning into my mother! Is this the male menopause or something? Am I destined to become disgustingly sensitive and emotional? Somebody zat me, quick!

Ooh, I feel movement next to me. The deep, resigned sigh and occasional sniffing means that the Daniel beastie might just be getting himself together and be ready to surface. And not a moment too soon! Time to get this show on the road.

“How are you feeling, Grasshopper?”

“Like I’ve been run over.”

Poor Daniel. I actually have a sneaking suspicion that his snarkiness has less to do with his headache and more to do with the lipstick mark he found on his right hip this morning. He was a little disturbed to find he doesn’t remember it, and even more disturbed as to how it got there in the first place. You should have seen him. He borrowed Carter’s little compact mirror and started bending and twisting in ways that only a younger body can, trying to catch a glimpse of every single part of himself, especially the bits where the sun doesn’t shine, just to make sure there weren’t any more offending lip shaped marks.

“Give me the sugar.”

“Hey. Manners, Daniel.”

Oh, if looks could kill, I’d need a sarcophagus right about now. 

“Pass me the sugar please.”

“Good boy.”

“Screw you, Jack.”

Daniel’s five-step hangover recovery has evidently reached the most important and crucial level. After the necessity of getting himself vertical, visiting the little boy’s room, holding his head under the faucet, and putting on some clothes, the final part of Daniel’s miracle hangover cure is to quadruple his sugar consumption. He may as well make himself a giant sugar lump, served on a bed of sugar, with sugar sprinkled on top. He actually tried this on me once, but I went into hyperglycaemic shock, apparently insisted on pushing my truck to work rather than driving it, and ended up spending half the day in Fraiser’s loving clutches. 

Daniel still swears by it though.

“Sure. Would you like some coffee with your sugar?”

I’ll take that squinty evil eye to mean, ‘Yes, please, Jack. Thank you so much.’

“Would you like me to grind the coffee and add water and milk? Or would you be happier gnawing on the raw beans?”

“You really are a bastard, aren’t you, Jack?”

“I’m just kidding, Daniel. I already made a fresh pot of Arabian Mocha just for you. You can have it in your new Stonehenge mug if you like. Might be worth taking some Tylenol as well.”

“Oh, thanks. Uh.... I didn’t mean to snap by the way, sorry.”

“That’s okay, buddy. It won’t hurt if we leave a couple of hours later anyway, so take your time. Here, I got you some of your favourite cookies too.”

Don’t say it! Don’t even think about it! I don’t want to hear the words sappy, fluffy, or anything else that can be remotely defined as such. I have a reputation to uphold, you know!

****

On to part 2...


	2. Part 2

  
Author's notes: Here's part 2 of 3! Enjoy!  


* * *

“Oh, Jack, can we go there, please?”

That’s the fourth time Daniel’s asked me that. He’s referring to the signs we keep seeing for a maize maze. We have been driving for a while I suppose, and he’s so hyped up on sugar, I guess any crappy attraction is going to sound great.

Oh, screw it; we have time.

“All right, Daniel.”

“Yippeee!”

Okay, where’s that next turning?

Hang on… did he just say ‘yippeee’? Nah! It must have been a figment of my imagination. The excitable clapping of his hands must have been an apparition too! There’s no way our ultra-serious, too mature for his own good, highly intelligent archaeologist would have just said ‘yippeee’ and clapped his hands. Either that or we’re in for a very interesting day of Daniel on a sugar high. God, why me?

****

“We’ve arrived, campers! Welcome to the Maize Maze! Please remain inside the RV until we’ve come to a total and complete stop! Thank you.”

“I would not attempt to exit a moving vehicle, O’Neill.”

“Yes, I know, Teal’c. It was a joke.”

“I see. Perhaps you are in need of practice when it comes to jesting, O’Neill.”

“Needs work, huh?”

“Indeed.”

Well, at least Daniel managed to follow my order. That is until he opened the door, which is when all hell broke loose. It was one of those slow motion moments. He was so excited; he jumped up, slipped on his shoes without tying the laces, grabbed his backpack, opened the door, subsequently stepped on his errant laces, and despite his wind milling arms and futile attempt to find something to grab on to…. well, the word ‘splat’ comes to mind! 

“Daniel!”

Once I’d managed to get out of the door, it was to find Daniel sitting up and rubbing his knee. His eyes had welled up a bit and I could see him fighting against that wobbling bottom lip, but I refrained from mentioning anything. Contrary to popular belief, I do know when to shut up sometimes.

“Daniel, are you all right?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

Across the car park there were some nasty little snot nosed kids laughing their asses off at Daniel’s misfortune, but a quick nod of my head to Teal’c and he was on the case. Be very afraid kiddies!

“Let me take a look, Daniel.”

There doesn’t appear to be any major damage. He has a few scrapes on his hands where he landed and a bruised knee. Nothing serious. Carter’s already on the scene with the antiseptic wipes. I think I’ll take the time to put a triple knot in his damn shoelaces. Try getting those suckers undone later!

“Ready to hit the maze, Daniel?”

“Yeah.”

Yep, the younger they are, the faster they bounce back.

“I bet you fifty bucks that I can beat you to the centre, Danny Boy.”

“Okay, you’re on!”

With his track record of navigating, it’ll be like taking candy from a baby!

****

Alrighty then! That’s a dead end, which means that I have to go this way. 

This maze is so easy! You can pick up a map at the entrance, but that’s more for little kids. I certainly don’t need one. Besides, when Daniel finally arrives in the centre to find me snoozing from having waited so long, I do not want him saying I cheated by having the map. 

Oh, that’s a dead end too. Okay, well, I’ll go this way then.

I tell ya, I probably do have an unfair advantage. They teach you all these navigating skills at the academy. It’s vital to have an excellent sense of direction when in the field. Maps aren’t always available, so you have to learn to look for the small things to make sure you’re not walking in circles – where the sun or moon are located in the sky, where shadows fall, a broken twig, a pile of stones, a funny shaped tree - that sort of thing. 

Mmmm, right or left? Well, I can’t go right because I’ll be heading back in a circle, so left it is. 

It’s just as well I know where I’m going. By the time you make Colonel, a compass is no longer essential kit. That’s why I never get lost. Poor Daniel’s probably completely turned around by now.

Oh, this little path leads back to there. How can that be? Fine, I’ll go this way. 

It seems that my watch has stopped working too because it says I’ve been in here for nearly an hour already, and, well, that can’t be right. It’s been nowhere near that long. 

Okay, all I need to do is go this way and I should be nearly there. As soon as I reach the centre, I’d better set out on a search and rescue for Danny Boy.

Mmm, another left or right. Yep, definitely this way. Mazes like this are all down to common sense anyway, which is why Daniel will be hopelessly lost.

Ah, this way. Wha…? How? … Uh… okay, I’ll go this way then. Oh yeah, this is better. Nearly there now.

I suppose I’d better start planning how I’m going to spend my newly acquired fifty dollars. Perhaps I could buy myself something cool!

Hang on a minute. I recognise that tree. It has an ‘S’ shaped branch and I remember seeing that before. Nah, can’t be. Must just be a similar tree. I have a sixth sense for stuff like this. My subconscious will let me know if I’m going in the wrong direction.

Anyway, as I was saying, perhaps I could get myself a new fishing rod. I could do with a new reel too.

How the…? But…. Wait, I can see a little sign up ahead. What does that say? ‘You’re in the Maize Maze. Six square miles of fun!’

This is ridiculous! No one told me this maze covered six square miles for heaven’s sake!

It _has_ to be this way.

Uh… okay, I’ve definitely seen that rock before. Oh, crap! Right, well, um…. in that case, I need to… um… shit!

“Oh for crying out LOUD!”

How in the hell did I get all the way back here?

“JACK?”

“SIR?”

Oh, you have to be kidding me!

“O’NEILL?”

This can’t be happening!

“Jack?”

“Yeah, over here.”

“Jack, we’ve been looking everywhere for you. Are you okay?”

“Peachy.”

“We reached the centre about half an hour ago, Sir. We waited for twenty minutes or so, but thought we’d better come and look for you.”

“Did you get lost, Jack?”

“No! Of course not! I… uh… came across some kids that were lost. They were getting upset and wanted to get out, so I took them back to the beginning and then had to start again. I was just on my way.”

Well, I thought it was an excellent lie, but judging from the looks being directed my way, it evidently needs work.

“You got lost, didn’t you, Sir?”

“Well, I….”

“You owe me fifty, Colonel Jack!”

Colonel Jack? I can see Daniel is nowhere near close to using up all that sugar yet. How do I adequately describe Daniel on a sugar high? Well, he kinda looks like a crazed mongoose, a little bit buzzy and bouncy, and constantly on the move, like if he keeps still for even a second, he’ll sink into the ground or something. He points a lot too, and he must lose all his depth perception or something because personal space becomes a thing of the past. He almost stuck his finger up my nose when he said, ‘Colonel Jack’.

“Now, come on, Daniel…”

“Fifty big ones, Jack. I won it fair and square.”

“You had help!”

“No, I reached the middle all on my own.”

“Daniel met us there, Sir.”

God, this is embarrassing. Think of something, O’Neill! 

“Well… I was mapless.”

“So was I!”

Smug little shit.

“Daniel Jackson was in fact already present when we arrived, O’Neill.”

“Yep! I was first! I was aMAZEing, Jack! And I _beat_ you!”

Did I say ‘smug little shit’? Well, I’m gonna say it again!

“Repeat after me, Jack!”

“No!”

“Yes!”

“No way!”

“O’NEILL!”

“Fine!”

It’s so unfair when he brings out the Jaffa cavalry.

“Repeat after me. ‘I, Colonel Jack O’Neill’… Come on!”

Oh, he’s so gonna make me pay for this.

“I, Colonel Jack O’Neill.”

“…do hereby declare that I completely and utterly lost the bet…”

“Do hereby declare that I completely and utterly lost the bet.”

“…and that Dr Daniel Jackson is the undisputed champion of the Maize Maze!”

“And that Dr Daniel Jackson is the undisputed champion of the Maize Maze.”

“Yep! And don’t you forget it, Jack!”

Arrogant, self-righteous little troll! You’d never catch me gloating like this. I’ve always been a far more gracious winner. 

“Well, if I’d have wanted to beat you, Daniel, I would have. But I didn’t want to…. so I didn’t.”

So there!

“O’Neill, would you do us the honour of leading us to the exit?” 

“Okay, I will. This way.”

“I think you will find that it is, in fact, this way, O’Neill.”

“Oh… yeah, that’s what I meant.”

****

On to part 3!


	3. Part 3

  
Author's notes: This is part 3 of 3! I hope you've enjoyed it! x  


* * *

“Another burger, Teal’c?”

“Indeed.”

We’re back at the RV now having driven back to the very first campsite that we stayed at just outside London. We have two nights here before heading home.

“Carter, how about you?”

“No thanks, Sir.”

We’re going back into the centre of London tomorrow, so tonight is the last barbeque of our vacation. 

“Daniel?”

“No thanks. I’m all burgered out.”

After I completed the maze today… Okay, okay, after I took part in the maze, I let the kids drag me over to the small petting zoo they had on site. As per usual Daniel found everything so damn fascinating and took off at lightening speed, dragging Carter along behind him, to admire, pick up, and cuddle everything in sight. He tried to pass a tiny little baby bunny rabbit to Teal’c, who proceeded to hold it at arm’s length with just two fingers. Anyone would think it was a ferocious, wild beast, capable of ripping his throat out if Teal’c’s face was anything to go by! Didn’t seem to phase Daniel though; he quickly moved on to hugging the goats. I know Daniel was never allowed any kind of pet as a child, and to this date he’s only ever had fish, so combined with having consumed his own body weight in sugar, I guess piglets, ferrets, and bunny rabbits are kind of a novelty. He even hugged a cow! He tried to hug a donkey, but Eeyore just wasn’t having any of it. It took a liking to me instead unfortunately. Came right over, farted, and then shat on my shoes! 

We left after that.

To be honest, I’m a little concerned about Daniel right now. What goes up must come down, and I can see it happening before my very eyes. He’s finally run out of his sugar-produced energy and he’s going to crash any minute. As Daniel gets closer and closer to collapse, which we’ve seen many times before when he over works and under sleeps, he tends to start talking complete crap. Carter’s humouring him, of course, and I’m sure the only reason Teal’c’s eating everything in sight is because he’s so bored. I kid you not; we’ve spent the last twenty minutes listening to Daniel and Carter talk about vacuum cleaners. Don’t ask me why; I have no idea. I don’t know how I’ve managed to contain my excitement up to now, but just so you know, Carter’s vacuum cleaner is apparently called Henry and is very effective. Evidently, on the contrary, Daniel’s is rubbish. Ooh, what could possibly be next in this exciting episode?!

“Maybe you should get a new one, Daniel.”

“Yeah, that might be a good idea.”

“You should get one like mine.”

“Yeah, maybe I’ll do that.”

“It’ll be much better than yours.”

“Well it certainly can’t be any worse. Mine is a complete pain in the ass.”

Oh, I can’t resist it!

“Uh, well, Daniel, buddy, you’re not supposed to do _that_ with it."

“What…?”

Impressive. He has that ‘just stuffed’ look again.

“No, I… I didn’t mean…. Jaaack!”

“Come on, kids. I think it’s time to hit the sack.”

“Oh, can’t we stay up just a little longer?”

“Nope. You’re dead on your feet, Daniel, and frankly, neither my back nor my knees are up to carrying you to bed when you finally keel over.”

“But, I’m not really tired.”

Riiight!

“You see this, Daniel. This is my ‘I’m not buying it’ face.”

“Can’t I just have a quick coffee?”

“Believe me, that’s the last thing you need.” 

“But...”

“Do you want to go to London tomorrow?”

“Well, yes.”

“Then bed, now.”

Christ, it’s like having a five year old. As soon as I mentioned going to bed, Carter and Teal’c agreed, stood up, said good night, went inside the RV, and are now getting ready. As usual, Daniel has to stay here and argue, even though you can see he’s so tired that his eyes are mostly shut. Makes him look like a mole.

“Okay, maybe you’re right. Night, Jack. See you in the morning.”

“Night, Daniel. Sleep well, buddy.”

Ahhh, peace and quiet. Now I get to enjoy what I, and nearly every parent in the world, rarely gets to experience, a little bit of time alone with a nice cold beer. What a day! I tamed the wild Daniel beastie, lost fifty bucks, waved goodbye to a little more of my dignity, and received a special present from a donkey! To top it off, I’ve finally sent my brother in arms, my good friend, and my very tired snarkiologist to bed. 

So, why do these things always happen to me? Because I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

 

The End… for now!


End file.
